Sep. 12, 2013

Tutor Alice Emmons helps Kylelle McDonald with one of his essays at WordPlay on Hamilton Avenue in Northside. / The Enquirer/Tony Jones

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WordPlay

To learn more about WordPlay or to donate, go to wordplaycincy.org. To see more photos of what happens there, go to Cincinnati.com/inspired for an amazing slide show. Saturday Party

If you want to help WordPlay celebrate one year of existence, all are welcome to their party Saturday night for “entertainment, cake, ice cream, festive adult beverages :) and lots of fun surprises.” • When: 5 - 7 p.m. • Where: 4041 Hamilton Ave, Northside

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This story is part of The Enquirer’s series about people working to make this a better place for all of us. They work in the arts, community service, their own businesses. They all believe you can create something exciting and fresh in Cincinnati. Know somebody creating things? Email John Faherty at jfaherty@enquirer. com.

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The girl stood in the middle of the room, underneath a chalkboard, glaring at the people around her. Her hair was tightly braided, her arms were crossed in front of her and she was deciding what to do next.

What the girl did not know, what she will never know, is that she helped an entire organization realize its purpose.

When WordPlay started one year ago, it had a simple and noble mission. It would teach children to love words. It would help them learn to read and write. It would allow them to find their voice.

The storefront organization on Hamilton Avenue in Northside has 175 volunteer tutors and has helped 500 kids. More than 100 children attend regularly. All receive one-on-one tutoring.

Everyone thought the words would set them free, but now they know the truth: It was never going to work. Their entire mission was too naive.

And kids like this 7-year-old girl are exactly why. When she first started coming to WordPlay, she seemed like a perfect candidate to benefit from the help. She was behind in school and struggled particularly with language. “We thought literacy was it,” said Libby Hunter, executive director and co-founder of WordPlay.

But the more the people at WordPlay got to know this little girl, the more they began to see the challenges she – and they – faced. She lived in poverty and was often hungry. Her family was unstable. When she began, she was a first-grade girl exposed to drugs and violence. Her school was underperforming.

“She was the one who made us realize how big our mission really is,” Hunter said. “We need to address so many social and emotional needs before we can help with the other stuff. You cannot find your voice until you are safe and secure.”

On Wednesday, the girl was talking back, stubborn and headstrong. She can’t seem to control herself sometimes, Hunter said, maybe because of her home life. Now the girl was disrepsecting her tutor and disrupting the other children. Hunter, 45, who had already said hello, said it was time to settle down. The girl would not do it, so eventually Hunter firmly but sweetly told her she needed to be by herself for a moment and think about things.

Under the chalkboard, the girl toyed with a piece of chalk but wrote nothing. Hunter knew this would take awhile.

When Hunter and co-founder Elissa Yancey began to see how much help some children needed, they began to shift the focus of WordPlay. Afternoons after school, and Saturdays, too, volunteers help children with their homework, their writing and their reading. The same as ever.

But now WordPlay tries to draw in the childrens’ parents and teachers. The children are fed a snack, usually an apple or peanut butter crackers, and when appropriate, parents are told about social-service agencies that might help their children.

“We are trying to tighten the loops in their safety nets,” Hunter said. “We know it will take awhile, and we know it will not be easy. But we are trying to build a social fabric for kids who have been scraping for everything their entire lives.”

On Wednesday, the children did their homework, then some walked down Hamilton Avenue to the Northside Farmer’s Market.

They were encouraged to talk to farmers about their green beans and red tomatoes. They asked about farming and bread making and how hot some of the peppers were.

It was not clear if they were benefiting more from learning about fresh fruits and vegetables or from interacting with adults in a positive way.

Some of the vendors placed their wares in brown paper bags and handed them to the kids to take home. It was, in fact, a sweet moment in time.

But none of this is easy. Many of the children who walk through the door have known years of failure and adults who have disappointed them time and again.

“We have to build trust,” Hunter said. “They have been left behind so many times.”

And WordPlay tries to do this on a shoestring budget. The landlord is generous and the volunteers are free, but the first year has cost $85,000 and meant a sometimes paycheck for Hunter, who sold her home so she could rid herself of all debt before she started.

The organization, a 501(c)3, depends entirely on donations to survive. And there are days, Hunter admits, when she wonders if she can really make a difference.

“Sometimes I get that drop-in-the-bucket feeling. I get that horrible despair,” she said. “But you know what? It will be my drop in the bucket.”

And sometimes there are days like Wednesday, and little girls who uncross their arms. She stood underneath that chalkboard for a full five minutes before she started writing.

She is the youngest of six kids, the child of a single mother who has known more than her share of hard times. The mother used to drop three of her daughters off at WordPlay but never come in. One day, a volunteer told Hunter that the mother was outside in her car, and so Hunter ran outside to talk to her. It was a start.

Eventually, the mother started coming inside. Now the people at WordPlay are working with the girl’s school to see if she can be tested for a possible learning disability. And she is beginning to like words.

Wednesday, she picked up the chalk and wrote: “I love you.” Then she added an “and” and a “the,” just to show she could.

She yelled across the room: “Miss Libby, Miss Libby,” and pointed at her words.

Hunter smiled. “That’s a big deal. That’s how she says she is sorry now.

“She gives me words.”

Hunter walked across the room and placed her hand on the girl’s head and thanked her. Then she said it was time to get working with her tutor.

The tutor and the girl sat down and started writing. ■

I will write about absolutely anything ... so long as it is interesting. Reach me at jfaherty@enquirer.com.